


The Lure of Lethe

by Rowaine



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M, PWP, Temporary Amnesia, borderline non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all he can think about. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lure of Lethe

He wakes up _somewhere_. He isn't sure where, or how he got here, and he's having problems remembering exactly who he is and why that's probably a bad thing. 

All he really knows for sure is the heat rushing through his body. He needs to get laid _right the fuck now!_

The room he's in isn't familiar. 

Not that it would be, in his amnesiac state. Not that it matters with the drugs rushing through his system, inhibiting memory and urging copulation. 

There's a cabinet to one side, directly in his line of sight from his position on the floor; its doors are open to reveal sex toys and assorted lubricants. An open door in one corner shows the tile of a shower and bath. To his back is a large four-poster bed. Plenty of things to get his libido to shut up so maybe he can remember why not remembering is a bad thing.

Dragging his drugged ass upright, his eyes automatically focus on the rather large, blue object in the center of the bed. It's a lifelike - _very_ lifelike and anatomically correct! - male sex doll. No priming the pump with this model, it's fully functional and ready to be ridden. And also blue. Did he mention blue already? For some reason, his mind is stuck on just how ~~yummy~~ well-endowed the thing is.

It's a no-brainer at this point. Grab the lube (self-warming variety), strip down (except he's already naked, and that should concern him, but later's soon enough), climb on the bed, and start prepping his ass for a wild and crazy time.

His hole is sensitive, moreso that he thinks it should be. Cus this? Feels way too good for it to be a virgin rodeo. One finger, two fingers, soon up to four, and he's moaning like a bitch in heat. The lube's living up to its name and heating nicely, and every time he opens his eyes, a halo effect blurs his vision just a bit. Could be from his arousal, or maybe from whatever dope he's on. Doesn't matter, it all feels so. damned. GOOD!

The leftover gloop gets smeared across the cool phallus - did it just twitch at him? neat! - and he carefully lowers himself onto it with a happy groan. He thinks he should hire whoever created this thing, cus he'd make a fortune on the open porn market. The body doesn't have much give, not like he'd have thought from a plastic doll, which is great since it lets him set a steady pace.

Slow and deep, a little grind each time he bottoms out to tag his prostate, and it's perfect. Could only be better if those hands were put to use on his neglected dick. He grabs one and lifts, positions it to grip his leaking cock, and his head falls back as it tightens just a bit.

The cool plastic feels exquisite against his over-heated skin, milking him gently as his tempo increases. Why does he have no memory of how fuckin' awesome the contrast of temperatures feels? He has _got_ to do this again! And again, and again. Maybe flipping his new best buddy over to test out its ass...

His eyes are shut in pleasure, so he doesn't see the twin points of red that have locked onto his bouncing body. It's pretty hard to miss when the second cool hand captures a nipple for a sharp tweak. 

And that's all it takes for him to fly apart.

He doesn't know how he managed to land so neatly on the bed, or how he's not covered in his own jizz, but he's comfy and clean if a touch cool. Being held against the sex doll. Being _held_. By _the doll_. Surely he should be freaking the fuck out right about now. But it's ... nice. Soothing and comfortable, with the fingers running through his hair ...

"Awake, are you?"

His eyes fly open, and it's like the haze has lifted from his brain. The cool body chuckles behind him.

"I can't say how you got here, Anthony Stark," the soft voice is nearly a purr, "but thank you for a wonderful evening."

Racking his mind for ... who? Was there anyone on the SHIELD database with blue skin like that? Nightcrawler, but he'd have a Germanic accent. A chick or two - obviously not. He should know this, dammit!

"Mmm, your tongue is stilled, how odd. Perhaps you were caught in the Lethe field as well? Which means you aren't an intended guest, nor were you authorized to see to my daily torment."

Stark - yes, he is Tony Stark, billionaire genius playboy philanthropist. What was he doing here, wherever here was. A visit, torture? That's not at all like him! But his vocal chords refuse to work for some reason.

"Fear not, dear Anthony," the soothing purr reassures, "I am not one to break my beloved toys. Unlike my brother."

Mr. Blue has a brother, right. Still no closer to an answer, but he adds it to the short list.

Soothingly cool fingers stroke down his back, up through his hair, then gently massage his shoulders. He must've pulled a muscle or two in his enthusiasm, so this treatment is most welcomed.

"I should - in theory - alert my jailors of your presence. However you might have gotten through the layers of enchantments and dozens of guards, I know not, but someone must be looking for you by now." A sweet pulse of air against his ear sends a shiver down Tony's spine. "Unfortunately, that will not be the case. It has been far too long since I've enjoyed another's company without pain or ridicule. And so, unless you have an objection, I would like to enjoy your _company_ once again."

That sounds like a wonderful idea. A tiny part of Tony's brain wants answers: how and why and all that. But his body is still flush with arousal and in need of release. He lifts his head to stare into blood red eyes, and simply says, "Please."

**Author's Note:**

> In Classical Greek, the word lethe literally means "oblivion", "forgetfulness", or "concealment".


End file.
